This Is War
by just4alaugh
Summary: What if Gaea didn't rise? What if Hera didn't meddle? What if the Greeks and Romans learned about each other in a much more catastrophic way?
1. Chapter 1

1\. PERCY

In truth, it was all Percy's fault. He was man enough to acknowledge that. He should've been smarter. He should've been warier. He _should've_ been more ruthless.

 _Godsdammit,_ Percy thought, trying his best not to be kicked under the current by the drowning Roman demigod. _I'm going to ruin everything._

Percy had once been told that his fatal flaw was loyalty – but Annabeth disagreed. She believed that it was decency, to an unhealthy (in terms of their survival) extent. Percy had always argued with her. He wasn't an idiot, he claimed; he was only loyal to those that deserved it, to his _friends._

And yet here he was, in a swirling lake, trying his best to save a random Roman from downing whilst not giving away that he was a son of Poseidon – all the while knowing that his fellow campers where only a few kilometres away (which was not far enough to be safe, because Percy also knew the Romans had a greater number of troops and eagles nearby), carrying out surveillance on the latest weapons the Romans were assembling and testing out… If this didn't prove Annabeth's point, Percy didn't know what would.

She'd be furious if she found out. Scratch that, _when_ she found out. He couldn't keep much from her. She was the head of their intelligence and planning.

For a moment, Percy closed his eyes and sighed. Wouldn't it be nice, he thought, to live a world where Greeks and Romans weren't enemies, where he could just rescue this blonde Roman as easily as he could breathe underwater. _Alas_ , Percy imagined Chiron saying, his dark eyes grave, _we don't always get what we pray for._

And Percy hadn't prayed to anyone since this whole Greek vs Roman mess had begun. After the first real battle, he'd quickly realised wishing didn't do much good either. He'd seen too many campers hurt and killed. He knew Annabeth was right when she insisted that they had to make their own luck; this translated into hard work, long nights spent planning and strategizing.

Still, Percy was aware that none of them – not even the Romans (although this was a point of disagreement between him and Annabeth) – had actually asked for this; just like every other quest or difficult task they'd ever encountered, this war had just been handed to them. _Stick your hand out_ , Athena had said, _good little Greek heroes. Here you go. Take this war. Fight it. Win._

Percy had no idea what had happened on the Roman side (they still knew infuriatingly little about the Roman camp), but he personally felt the declaration of war had been scarily straightforward. And things had never been the same since.

To Percy, it felt unfair. More unfair than being hated by Zeus for a lightning bolt he didn't steal. More unfair than having to fight a Titan because a prophecy proclaimed him – a guy who really just wanted to live an ordinary life – to be the 'chosen one'. Because arguably, all his previous quests had had a greater purpose; they may have screwed over his life, but they'd still helped the world function better.

 _This_ war did not.

Maybe that was why Percy was reluctant to fight in it's various battles. Maybe that was why when he had seen this demigod slip off the steep embankment, losing his footing in the slippery mud surrounding the viciously deep river, and start drowning in the water, Percy had only hesitated for a few seconds. Unlike Percy, there was no way the guy could have known just how angry these particular water spirits were with the fact that sewage was being emptied further upstream, from the nearest town. And instead of walking away, like a smart Greek soldier, he'd jumped in.

Yeah. Yeah. Annabeth was right. He really was a seaweed brain.

The guy coughed and spluttered, bringing Percy back to the present. "Stop fighting me," Percy growled at him, giving him a little shake. He was trying his best to get the both of them moving. "We need to swim downstream, the water's cleaner there. It'll be easier to get out."

"No, I – my foot -" The guy couldn't seem to stay afloat, even with Percy helping (merely by swimming, not by using his powers. There was only one Greek demigod who could control the water, and any Roman soldier worth his podex knew that that was a guy to capture.)

"You have to kick with your legs, not just one foot," Percy huffed. "Otherwise we'll _both_ drown." Not that that was strictly true.

The Roman grumbled something and Percy couldn't believe his ears.

" _Idiot_?" Percy said incredulously. It didn't matter that he'd just spent the last few minutes berating himself for being one. "Did you just call me an idiot? Here I am, saving your fucking life –"

" _Trying to,_ " the Roman pointed out, before he ducked underwater once more. Percy had to pull with all his strength to drag the boy back up. Maybe this Roman just sucked at swimming and was destined to drown, but he could wait until Percy was finished giving him a piece of his mind.

" –and you have the audacity to insult me? I should just leave you to drown and swim away, live my life rescuing people who know the words _thank_ and _you._ " The Roman opened his mouth, his cheeks already quite blue. Percy cut him off. "Not even in that specific order. I'm not even going to be that picky."

"They'll get you too. You should save yourself." The Roman managed to gurgle the words out before he was dragged under. And Percy was clutching the guy pretty closely, so he felt the extra pair of hands that suddenly appeared at the Roman's waist. Percy shivered. They were cold, scaly hands.

And in that moment, he truly understood all the ways in which he was an idiot. The water spirits! They wouldn't dare to attack him, bound to serve Poseidon as they were. But this Roman boy was fair game. There was only one thing to do, and it would be risky. Percy let the Roman go. Then he steeled himself and allowed the current carry him under.

Percy had never had any trouble seeing underwater and this time was no different. He saw the Roman thrashing, doing his best to hold his breath, his attention focused on the two reptilian, green water spirits surrounding him.

Percy flicked his hand, ever so slightly, and one of the green creatures was blasted back. Unfortunately, at that moment, the other water spirit chucked a heavy concrete square – was that a brick? Percy squinted but couldn't be sure – and it hit the Roman square in the head. He blacked out, his blue eyes rolling up towards his head. Percy winced, immediately creating a bubble of air around the boy's face.

 _No._ Percy thought forcefully, as the water spirits moved forwards eagerly. _Leave him._

At this, both water spirits hesitated. They were still circling the Roman, but now their eyes were focused on Percy.

 _Lord Perseus._ Percy resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He hated being called that. It was too formal, too demanding a title. It was how the gods were addressed and if there was one thing Percy knew with certainty, it was that he never wanted to be a god himself (sorry Poseidon!). _He's a Roman. In our territory. A month ago, Lord Poseidon gave us explicit instructions to kill any Romans in the water._

 _And then Lord Neptune appeared the next second,_ the other water spirit piped up, _and contradicted his previous instructions. But he's never really liked the Romans, because they don't worship him properly. So he said we could_ _still kill any ill behaving Romans that dared to test our waters._

 _Like HIM._ Both water spirits pouted and pointed at the Roman, widening their slit-like eyes as much as possible.

 _Are you…_ Percy couldn't believe it. _Giving me a puppy dog look?_

 _What's a puppy?_ Asked the water spirit on the left.

 _This is our best baby seal look._ The other explained.

Percy wondered if this was what Annabeth saw when _he_ gave her his infamous 'baby seal' look. He tried not to shudder.

 _Well, this one's off limits,_ Percy declared. _Now, please go._

 _But –_

Percy shot the spirits his most menacing look. He didn't have time to waste for the Roman to wake up and notice Percy in all his water-power glory. Because that would lead to realisations and what Percy really didn't want to do was draw attention to his troops.

The water spirits scuttled away, apologising and moaning, and Percy sighed in relief. He brought the Roman to the surface and got the two of them up the bank, extracting the water from the boy's lungs using his power (since the guy was still unconscious). He'd hoped to just turn around and leave before the Roman could notice him, but immediately the guy was coughing and clutching onto Percy's arm, holding him in place.

It took the Roman a full minute to get his bearings, but finally he managed to stop coughing and open his eyes. "You're Greek," he spluttered instantly. His tone was more surprised than accusatory. Water droplets splattered the ground as he shook his wet, blonde hair and attempted to sit up. Percy tried to sidle away but the boy's grip only tightened; his hand felt ice cold.

 _Shit._ Percy told himself to calm down – it wasn't overtly obvious that he was a Greek. After all, he wasn't wearing an orange camp half blood shirt, nor had any visible bronze weapons on him. But he sure wasn't decked out in purple either.

Percy considered firmly shaking the boy's hand off and making a run for it. But he knew that would only increase the boy's suspicions and get his troops discovered. So instead, Percy helped the Roman sit up. "Not necessarily," he replied easily, forcing himself to sound amused. "How do you know I'm not a Roman soldier going rogue?"

"What's my name?" The Roman asked.

Percy hesitated, then shrugged. Clearly, he'd managed to rescue someone who was important in the Roman hierarchy. Great, just great. This just got better and better. But there was still a chance he could pass himself off as a loner, depending on how gullible this soldier was.

"I'm not Greek. And I know you're Roman," Percy finally said. The purple shirt and golden armour gave it away. Percy had no doubt there would be a SPQR tattoo hidden beneath the sleeve of the boy's black jacket.

"Who _are_ you, then?" The boy's eyes narrowed, clearly unbelieving. "What are you doing here?" Percy felt something shift in the air. In hindsight, he should have known then what he'd done, but unfortunately his brain had been one step too slow. Percy blamed the ADHD (although later Annabeth would blame something else).

"Saving your life, apparently. I can't believe you Romans don't even know how to swim."

"We do." The Roman demigod coughed. "And normally water isn't an issue for me anyway." _Oh, really?_ Percy raised an eyebrow. "I know – that was bad –" The guy gestured towards the lake, "–but water spirits are difficult to fight." He finished with a frown, and Percy noticed he had a scar on his upper lip. For some reason, it emanated familiarity… Percy knew they hadn't met before, so he racked his brains, trying to figure it out. Was this maybe a Roman god?

"You. Thank."

"What?"

The Roman gave him a look. "You said the words didn't have to be in an exact order."

Percy couldn't help it. He threw his head back and laughed. No. This wasn't a god. Nowhere near obnoxious enough.

The Roman offered his hand. "Jason." That was when Percy should have definitely known.

"Peter." The lie naturally spilled from his mouth, and Jason didn't blink twice. Percy shook his hand wearily, and only after they'd let go did it hit him. Jason's black sleeve had been pushed back, just a bit, and Percy had seen the eagle on his forearm. Annabeth had drummed the Roman symbols into his head enough times for him to know that this was a son of Jupiter. _The_ son of Jupiter.

He'd just saved the life of one of the Praetors of the Roman camp.

"Thank you, Peter," Jason said with seriousness. "I appreciate your help. How did you defeat the water spirits?"

Percy wondered if there was indeed a subtle challenge in that question, or if he was just being paranoid.

Percy opened his mouth, unsure of what to say. He was still processing the magnitude of what he'd done. Seeing Percy's hesitance, the Praetor seemed to soften, just a bit. He cautiously touched Percy's shoulder.

"Err, Peter?" Percy jumped, for some reason startled by the contact. "Are you ok?"

And all Percy could think was: _Annabeth is going to absolutely flay me_.

* * *

AN: so idk, this story idea just popped up in my head and even though I thought I wouldn't bother writing it, err, here it is. The start of it, anyway. I definitely love Annabeth and Percy together, but I thought I may as well try some Jercy here because... well, why not? It's fun mixing things up haha. Please let me know what you think.

(This Is War or Civil War? What sounds like a better title?)


	2. Chapter 2

2\. ANNABETH

When Percy told her what he'd done, Annabeth laughed. She threw her curly, golden hair back and let her shoulders shake with the humor that bubbled up inside her, let it momentarily push back the bitterness and fear that constantly boiled in her gut. The panic and guilt, those emotions remained, but the laughter kept them at bay. For a few precious seconds, she felt much lighter.

When the laughter died away, Annabeth gently shoved Percy's shoulder. The tall, tan boy's fingers twitched. Interesting, Annabeth noted. She knew that was one of his nervous tics. Still, she was grateful for the distraction. "Thanks for that." She smiled up at him.

For some reason, Percy looked weary. "For what?"

"That." She gestured at him. "The ridiculous story. You – saving a Roman Praetor." Annabeth snorted, a few chuckles escaping her despite her best efforts. "Seriously. Things have been incredibly… well. You know." She exchanged a meaningful look with him. Percy and her; they were both in charge of the Greek camp and the war effort. They bore the brunt of the stress when things went right and the brunt of the guilt when things went wrong. They were blamed and respected, admired and also alienated. Some of the younger, newer campers hadn't even seen any gods or goddesses yet. To them, it seemed that Percy and Annabeth were the ones who were egging on the war. Needless to say, their job was not an easy one.

"Seaweed brain, you have no idea how long it's been since I've had a good laugh." She pinched his cheek, amused when he scowled.

Then Annabeth turned around and moved to the table at the center of the cabin, her eyes resigning to the plans strewn all over it. _Back to work._ The two of them were currently in the Athena cabin. Annabeth's siblings were on a lunch break; they'd left fifteen minutes ago, but Annabeth hadn't felt hungry enough to join them – as a matter of fact, only now was her appetite starting to return.

Percy hadn't returned with the rest of the troops from the morning's scouting mission. She had told Chiron and the other campers to send him her way when he finally did get back (because she knew he would. They were a team. He wouldn't get killed or captured - he wouldn't leave her hanging.) Still, when he'd ambled into the Athena cabin, just a few minutes ago, Annabeth had let out a sigh of relief. It occurred to her that she could no longer deny how much she depended on him; on his presence, his reliability. Annabeth never really knew how a battle or covert mission would play out. Sure, she planned and planned and planned – but the Romans were unpredictable, and the Greeks still didn't know much about Camp Jupiter's war strategy. Still. She could always count on Percy.

Looking at the plan before her, Annabeth bit her lip. There were a heap of numbers and sketches splashed across the paper, but her heart wasn't in it. She peeked sideways at Percy. He was still standing by the door. She had something to tell him and she already knew how he'd react... But maybe now was the time to finally let him know.

 _Ah well,_ Annabeth thought, determined. _It's a good a time as any._

Annabeth took a steadying breath and made to move towards a book-shelf by her bed, but Percy's warm hand grabbed her elbow. Even though his touch was gentle, Annabeth jumped. She'd assumed he was still all the way across the room, hovering hesitantly by the door. She figured something was on his mind, what with that weird (albeit hilarious) Roman joke. She also figured there was no point in pressing him; he'd tell her when he was good and ready.

"Damn, Percy. You're getting much better at sneaking around," Annabeth complained. Internally, though, she was pleased. That would mean he'd be even harder to spot (and thus be safer) on missions. She smiled as she remembered when this war had first begun. She'd been able to hear Percy 'sneaking' somewhere a mile away. "Those lessons with Connor and Travis are really paying off, huh?"

Percy rolled those trouble-maker eyes of his. "You don't need to sound so surprised. But, uh, listen. I wasn't…" He hesitated, and Annabeth frowned, stepping back. She folded her arms and suddenly her light mood vanished. Just as quickly, her desire to share her recent dreams with her fellow leader disappeared too. She knew that look, knew what it meant when Percy's eyes couldn't quite meet hers, when his hand couldn't stop fidgeting with his shirt. Percy was about to deliver some bad news.

"I wasn't joking," he finally said. "Earlier. I was serious."

Annabeth waited. She hoped furiously that Percy was going to say 'psyche'. But he didn't. He met her gaze, his own green eyes a strange mixture of guilty and defiant.

"You…"

"Yes."

"No."

" _Yes_."

"What was his name?"

"Jason."

"Last name?"

"Didn't quite catch it."

"Didn't quite… _catch it_?" Percy winced. Annabeth's tone was quiet, but it seethed with cold fury. She didn't even know what to say – half of her wanted to yell at him and the other half wanted to collect all the facts first, before he got defensive.

Annabeth looked away. _Damn you, Jackson_ , she thought angrily. "Did you… learn anything else useful, at least?" Calm, Annabeth, she told herself. Keep calm.

"After I saved him, I kinda just got out of there." Percy sighed and sat down on a chair, carefully moving a war plan aside. He noticed the blueprints underneath and his eyebrows quirked up. "Leo's designing a grenade-coffee machine combo? Seriously?"

And that nonchalance – that was the final straw. " _Perseus Jackson, if you think for one second you can just breeze through what you did_ _–"_ Annabeth's voice was a snarl.

"I know, I know!" Percy held up his hands, looking appropriately contrite. Yet it all just made Annabeth angrier. He could have blown their cover. He could have gotten the troops injured, if not worse – Annabeth's mind flashed to little Ellie, who was barely twelve and had volunteered for what should have been a fairly low risk surveillance operation. Hades, he could have gotten _himself_ killed. And then where would they all be? Annabeth didn't want to think about any of that, so she focused on her anger instead.

"I messed up," Percy said again. "I'm sorry."

"You're damn right you messed up." Annabeth was tempted to judo-flip the compassionate excuse for a soldier. She huffed, forcefully sitting down on a chair opposite him.

After a few moments, she searched his face. He did look genuinely upset. He was indeed safe. The troops had all made it back unscathed too.

 _Safe,_ Annabeth reminded herself. They were all safe and that was what mattered.

"Annabeth, I'm sorry. I really am. But…" Annabeth sighed, the anger draining away as fast as it had come. She covered her face with her hands, feeling unbelievably tired, as Percy continued. "I couldn't let him die. I don't exactly know why – and I didn't know who he was when I saved him. I know you've told me about the two Praetors – Jason and Reyna. I forgot. I just saw another pawn in this stupid war losing his life for some Roman god who wouldn't even care. Annabeth, say something."

There was a pressure at her knee. When she didn't respond, Percy nudged her again, this time gently shoving her shoulder. "You can keep insulting me. In fact, I insist you keep insulting me. I drool a lot, remember? That's always a good one." When Annabeth still didn't lift her head, Percy gently moved her hands away from her face. She saw small oceans, lots of freckles and his lips curled down in a pout. "I hate it when you're quiet," he grumbled softly.

"And I hate your stupid decency," Annabeth grumbled back.

But she'd spoken. A small light in his eyes flickered at the victory of a response. "No, you don't." And then he gave her a surprisingly serious look. "You love it just as much as you hate it."

Annabeth pursed her lips and looked away. Was he right? Unfortunately, she suspected he was. She sighed, stood up again and marched to the bookshelf by her bunk. This time Percy didn't stop her. "Here's the plan, aqua-man."

"Aqua-man?" Percy made a disgusted face.

"You like saving Romans so much, being a superhero, fine. It's your new nickname. You're going to tell me everything that happened with you and Praetor Jason." Annabeth found the book she was looking for, pulled it out and then sat back down, carefully placing it on the table.

Percy eyed the thick tome warily. "You're not going to make me read this, are you? There are better ways to get back at people."

Annabeth smiled dryly. It didn't quite reach her eyes. "Don't tempt me. Now, go on. Let's hear the story again. _Spare no details._ "

And Percy told her everything. He explained that there'd been a howling river and a blonde Roman, that there had been angry water spirits and that he'd had to use his powers. He told her that the Roman – Jason – had immediately assumed he was a Greek (at that point, it took all of Annabeth's willpower not to yell at Percy for making such a stupid mistake, nor hug him tightly because at least he was still alive), but Percy had managed to eventually convince Jason that he was a new Roman recruit, coming from the Wolf House in Sonoma.

This was news to Annabeth. She raised an eyebrow. She knew that the Roman demigods were first trained by the wolf Lupa – prisoners of war had given up that information (under torture. Well, not _real_ torture – Clovis had simply put them to sleep and drawn the information from their minds. It was a tricky procedure and it only revealed their most recent thoughts; anything more useful would require a proper trance and could potentially damage the demigod's mind. Annabeth might mock Percy for his 'decency', but she didn't feel good about hurting another demigod any more than he did.) Annabeth had never heard the words 'Wolf House' or Sonoma before, though.

"And he just believed you?" Annabeth asked incredulously.

Percy looked a little worried, but he nodded. "Yeah. I, err, talked about Lupa and the rough journey. I talked about not being sure if I even wanted to join the Romans because of rumors of a horrible war. I made up some story about being been confused and scared. Told him that I had just changed my mind, had _just_ decided to try my luck in the real world, when I saw him drowning…"

"And one thing led to another," Annabeth grunted. "What was his response to your little tale?" If the Roman had really bought Percy's story, he sounded a little too gullible - and if he really was this gullible (or forgiving) then why on earth were the Greeks on the losing side of this war? Annabeth wondered what exactly the other Praetor, Reyna, was like.

"He seemed to buy it. He told me that things were tough right now, but," Percy met Annabeth's gaze, his frown deepening, "that the Romans were about to finally settle this matter, put it all to bed. He said they had an amazingly powerful weapon, one that would render us – err, the Greeks – helpless." Percy sighed. "I pretended to still be conflicted. I pressed him for further information and he said he couldn't give me any until I'd joined the legion. Finally, he left me alone, told me to really consider my choices. He told me…" Percy hesitated, then gave a nonchalant shrug. "He told me that he'd be there. For support. At the camp. If I decided to join."

"Really?" Annabeth raised an eyebrow. _Well, well…_ "It sounds like –"

"It's not," said Percy firmly. He rolled his eyes and slumped carelessly in his seat. "Don't even say it."

"What? You _are_ very charming, Jackson. When you're not being an idiot or an asshole, that is. So let me guess, Jason left and you hightailed it out of there," Annabeth supplied.

"Damn straight."

Annabeth shook her head. "It just doesn't make sense. How did you know exactly what to say – all those details that sold your story?"

Percy looked incredibly sheepish. "Uh, promise me you won't get mad…"

"Percy," Annabeth hissed in warning, once again feeling like she wanted to strangle the guy.

"Okay, see, that reaction is the exact opposite of 'not being mad'."

Annabeth took a deep breath and forced herself to speak calmly. "What _else_ have you been doing, you Aqua-man wannabe?" She finished with the sweetest smile she could muster.

Percy dared to scoff, but he had the good sense to quickly explain himself, before her patience wore out. "Well, this may not have been the first Roman I've saved. Theoretically."

 _"What?!"_

"Once or twice before… if I've noticed a struggling demigod, even if they're of the Roman variety, I've given them a hand –"

"We're fighting a war with them and you're saving Roman soldiers?" Annabeth pointed at Percy angrily.

"No – not soldiers! They've been what I was pretending to be. They're –"

"So they're potential recruits?" Annabeth growled.

"They're just boys and girls!" Percy finally yelled back. His eyes were no longer liquid, instead burning like defiant green fires. "I'm sorry Annabeth, but they didn't deserve to die! All of those demigods – aside from Jason – were always on their way to Camp Jupiter. They didn't even know what they were getting into!"

The two of them glared at one another, letting a tsunami of silence crash down around them. It submerged the room. It let their words sink in. To Annabeth, everything seemed broken and disjointed, the anger and resentment between them something new. She and Percy weren't normally like this. They didn't keep secrets. This wasn't right. It was just one more thing she blamed the Romans for.

Finally, Annabeth asked, "Did you lose any potential trackers on the way back?" If Jason even slightly suspected Percy of lying about his identity, then he would've sent something – spies, or eagles – after him. It's what she would have done in his place.

Percy nodded. "I took the most complicated path I could – through the labyrinth entrance by the hot-dog guy on seventh and –"

"The labyrinth?" For the umpteenth time that day, Annabeth couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Just how much seaweed is in that brain of yours? Percy, the labyrinth's too dangerous, especially without Rachel – you of all people know just how dangerous."

"I couldn't risk leading anyone back here," Percy argued. "I don't think Jason completely believed me..." He looked at her emphatically.

"Oh."

"You see?"

"So either that secret-Roman-weapon stuff was a load of crap that Jason made up. If, by chance, you really are a Greek, it's just misleading information," Annabeth realized, her brain finally catching up. "Or..."

"Or the Romans really do have a weapon and we're screwed," Percy summed up.

They exchanged a grim glance.

"Shit," Annabeth said.

"My thoughts exactly," Percy said.

"No – because that lie, or truth, or whatever it was… It ties in with some dreams I've been having." Annabeth hesitated. She'd been mulling over these dreams for so long, it felt a bit weird to finally share them.

She still remembered the day Athena had come to Camp Half Blood and predicted this war. All the campers who'd witnessed it had that moment ingrained in their minds; her cold beauty, her stern face, her dire words. The next day, the Romans had attacked the first group of Greek demigods. Two had died. Annabeth knew it wasn't her fault, but she still felt guilty. Athena, her dreams… none of it was good news. And a part of her wondered whether, despite everything, Percy blamed her just as much as he blamed her mother. "Athena… Athena's given me her mark."

Percy blinked. "Excuse me? Are you trying to tell me you have a tattoo? Because that's kinda _hot_ –"

Annabeth rolled her eyes, unamused. "Jackson. Pay attention."

Percy grinned playfully. But his eyes looked concerned. "What does that mean, Athena's mark?"

"It means exactly that; the mark of Athena. It's a coin. I have it." And Annabeth pushed the book forwards; it was an ancient volume all about Athena. She opened up a chapter that discussed the mark. Unfortunately, it was pitifully short. "This chapter mentions it and there's a picture of the coin, there. Of course, that's just the artist's impression. The real coin… it looks a bit different."

Percy looked at her sharply. "The _real_ coin?"

"Here." Hands shaking slightly, Annabeth placed it on the table. A coin, with the owl of Athena on one side, stared back at the two of them: a single, menacing eye.

"What do you have to do with it?" Percy asked.

Annabeth shrugged. "Athena wants me to find something – but she won't say what."

"You've seen her?" Annabeth knew Percy hadn't seen Poseidon since the war began.

Annabeth patted his shoulder consolingly. "Only in my dreams, Perce. And she's so different. Scattered. Not herself. She…" Annabeth took a deep breath. "She told me I could end this war in our favor. If I find… whatever this will lead me to. If I don't, supposedly the Greek demigods will all cease to exist. The Romans will win." Annabeth tried to say the last two sentences lightly, but her traitorous voice trembled.

Percy narrowed his eyes. "And what are the odds that this will be a quest with very little danger?" His hands, resting on his knees, were now clenched. He was worried for her and she'd known he would be. Only now she found it pretty ironic, given the risks he seemed to take all the time.

"Less than zero. I talked to Rachel."

Percy blinked. _Without me?_ His unspoken words were loud.

But Annabeth wasn't sorry. She knew she had to do this alone. Besides, she didn't want to drag Percy needlessly into danger. He was her best friend. And someone needed to take care of the camp.

"She gave me a prophecy," Annabeth added.

"What was it?" Percy asked wearily.

" _Wisdom's daughter walks alone/ the mark of Athena burns through Rome / Romans' bane stands tall and pale/ won through pain from a woven jail._ " Rachel had said them first, and Annabeth hadn't been able to forget the words since.

"When?"

"This morning. While you were out." She tried her best not to give him a pointed look (and failed).

He was already shaking his head. "No." His jaw was tight. "I know I can't tell you what to do – I know I have no right – but it sounds way too dangerous. Rome? As in the real Rome or…" _New Rome._ What the Romans' called their little territory in the US. Annabeth knew which one Percy was hoping for.

"The real Rome." She wasn't going to back down, despite how dangerous her quest would be. She was determined to see it through. She clamped her hand over Percy's mouth. "No, shut up for a second. You want to stop feeling guilty every time we organize a battle and one of our troops doesn't make it? Hell, you want to be able to save demigods without thinking twice? You want to _finally_ get a good night's sleep? Because I sure as hell do. And _this is the way._ This can end it, Perce. I can end it. And I…" _I need your support. I need to know you won't do risky things like save Roman soldiers anymore._

But in the end, the words faltered away. Instead, she glared at him, daring him to challenge her again.

Percy gently moved her hand down and gave her fingers a squeeze. "Okay. You win. You're right." Annabeth's shoulders relaxed. _Good._ But then he said, "So when are we leaving? How are we getting there? And are you _sure_ it's not New Rome?"

She should have known it wouldn't be so easy. Annabeth scooted back a bit. "Firstly, there's no _we_ ; it's just me. Secondly, Leo's building a ship. I'm taking Leo and Clarisse with me for the journey, but I need to hunt for the Mark of Athena alone. It doesn't appear around others. I need _you_ to stay here, look after the campers and hold down the fort. No more stupid stunts, Percy. I mean it. And thirdly, I'm… about 90% sure."

Annabeth waited for Percy to argue against her points. She could tell he wanted to, but everything she'd said was logical. Someone did need to run things back here. Someone experienced. "That's not the same as being 100% sure," Percy finally pointed out, his tone cool.

"Now, now, don't sulk." Annabeth let her lips twist up in a small smile, knowing she'd won this stand-off.

"You should still investigate New Rome first."

"I don't have the time. Even if we knew where exactly in San Francisco it was, I can't just walk in through the front entrance. Plus, it's far more likely to be a dead end. I just… have this feeling the answer lies in the real Rome." Percy's eyes had that scheming look to them, so Annabeth snapped her fingers in front of this face. "Jackson, focus. I plan to head out in three days, so you need to…"

"So soon? Annabeth, I don't think –" Percy paused, suddenly seeming to realize something. Then he looked at Annabeth and beamed. "I've got it. Satyr!"

"What?" Annabeth blinked.

"Satyr." Percy stood up and started pacing. "I once saved a Roman girl who was coming from Lupa's wolf house. She was all anxious about the fauns – the Roman equivalent of satyrs – that apparently are found in New Rome. She'd heard they begged for money, maybe even mugged incompetent demigods. I'm not sure how much of this alleged behavior is truth and how much is exaggeration, but, basically, Romans do have satyrs. So…"

"You want us to sneak one of ours in?" Annabeth realized. "I guess… they are less likely to be recognised as Greek, unlike a Greek demigod. How long have you known about this, Percy?"

"A while." Percy winced. "I kind of… well, aside from being wrong about how _calmly you took my news about saving Romans_ ," he dared shoot her a cheeky glance, "it wasn't important before – even for a satyr, this is an incredibly risky mission. But now the stakes are higher. You might be able to end this war…"

Annabeth bit her lip, drumming her fingers against the oak table. She wanted to be more annoyed with Percy, but her brain was already kicking into action, using this new information to come up with a better, more efficient plan. Percy gave her the time to think.

"Okay," she finally said. "Here's what we're going to do. Oh, and Percy, you might want to use this as an opportunity to set an example of handling news well."

Percy groaned. "Let me guess…"

" _Trust me_ , you'll like this new plan even less than the old one," Annabeth finished cheerily.

* * *

AN: Hi guys! Guess who's back? Back again? With another chapter. Whoo! My goal is to update once a week, but I'll be honest, I can't promise regular updates until November. I'll certainly try my best, but until Nov, uhh, other work's gonna come first.

Thanks for the reviews and follows! I can't tell you how much I appreciate y'all taking the time to tell me what you think. : )

(Goal for next chapter: Jason's POV.)


	3. Chapter 3

3\. JASON

Jason's day was going pretty well, until he saw Peter again. And was smited by his own father. It turns out, the two weren't mutually exclusive events.

It all started when Jason was half-way through his morning fly (some people liked to take walks, others – okay, so just him, really – enjoyed flying around instead). He needed to clear his head and nothing quite woke him up like the restless fingers of the wind, whipping his hair, battering his face, chilling his bones. From his considerable distance off the ground, he had an impressive view. Far below him rested Camp Jupiter's golden hills, nestled unknowingly between a bustling city. Compared to it all, he was so, so tiny. One person. Staring at the entire world.

He paused, letting the view sink in. Doing this always gave him some perspective, some insight into the bigger picture.

And it was as Jason was absentmindedly scanning the scenery that he saw him. Peter. And for a moment, that was all he saw.

The black haired boy was moving reasonably stealthily, inching closer and closer towards the tunnel entrance to Camp Jupiter. For a moment Jason was – stupidly, uncharacteristically, _unreasonably_ – happy. It wasn't a big surge of emotion, just a small, insistent tugging in his chest. Maybe pleasantly surprised would be a better term for it, Jason decided. He briefly thought that Peter was going to give life at Camp Jupiter a go. But then his view expanded and he saw the rest of the picture. A frown settled heavily on his lips.

Following Peter were five members of the Roman guard. Jason personally knew the whole lot; they were boys and girls from the first and second cohorts. And he suddenly realized that Peter wasn't just moving a leisurely pace – he was scurrying, trying to ditch the soldiers by climbing through trees and under bushes. Although Peter was a reasonable distance ahead of them, the Romans didn't seem to be too far behind. When Jason spotted the two small eagles, he understood why. The birds were undoubtedly sniffing out Peter's scent.

Jason hesitated, suddenly extremely uncomfortable. He hadn't been one hundred percent sure Peter wasn't a Greek spy of some sort, when they'd last bumped into each other. It had been four days since Peter had saved Jason. Ninety-six hours since Jason had first, and last, seen those presumptuous green eyes, or that annoying smirk. (But who's counting?) Part of him had wondered whether letting him go had indeed been the right decision... After all, Jason had never faltered in his duty before. He'd never given into emotion like that – the impulse to believe in the other boy's story, simply because _h_ _e_ wanted it to be true.

And now, it seemed, it was becoming a pattern. Because Jason still didn't move, just watched as scene below unfolded before him. He saw Peter come to a dead end, the tunnels (guarded with Hazel and Dakota today – two of Jason's favourite campers) before him, the pursuing Roman guards behind. He saw Peter pull out a sword, a giveaway flash of bronze winking in the sun, and watched as he began fighting with the two nearest guards – blokes from the second cohort.

And just like that, Jason had full confirmation he'd been lied to. Peter fought like a tornado, moving in jerks and then with unexpected finesse, his enemies lagging one step behind. It was not Roman fighting. And it was certainly not the fighting style of a newly initiated demigod.

Oliver, a soldier with bright red hair, looked up then. He was throwing his hands up in frustration and paused, spotting Jason. He brightened and gestured wildly, but he didn't need to. By now, Jason was already on the move.

But Peter's back was to him and he didn't see. Skilled though he was, there was only one of him and five well trained Roman soldiers around him, who began to work as a team. Eventually, Peter's sword was knocked from his hand. At which point, Peter did a peculiar thing.

Jason would look back on this moment in the days to come, and wonder why exactly Peter did what he did next.

Maybe it was because he had five angry Romans surrounding him and two more running to join the fray that he did it. Maybe if it weren't for Jason, it might have (okay, Jason might as well admit it, _probably would_ have) worked. Or maybe he was just pissed (he did seem the reckless sort). Either way, Peter threw up his hands and yelled.

Jason's mouth dropped open as the water from the nearest lake – one that eventually fed into the river Jason had been drowning in, just four days prior – formed two gigantic fists. One grabbed the five Roman soldiers, submerging them up to their necks, a wicked current preventing them from getting their bearings. The other did the same to Hazel and Dakota.

Peter, looking significantly more tired than the last time Jason had seen him, started to move away – but it was too late. Jason had been slowly moving towards the ground the entire fight, and now Peter was only a meter away. Jason swooped down and picked the boy up, taking him high into the air. It was the best distraction Jason could think of, and he was right.

Peter stiffened, momentarily shocked, then started struggling violently. But it must have taken too much energy to fight Jason off and keep controlling the water, because Jason heard a distant splash, followed by lots of groaning and Latin curses.

"Let – go – of – me –" Peter grunted.

Surprisingly, Jason was tempted to. With his wide eyes and messed up hair, Peter almost looked... well, scared. _Good_ , Jason thought. _The tables have turned._ So why didn't he feel better about it? Peter had lied to him – Jason now knew perfectly well who he was dealing with. This was his chance to get even, get the Greek back for making a fool of him earlier.

Instead of feel vindicated, Jason just felt strangely empty.

"Got tired of trying your luck in the real world?" He said, keeping his voice impassive.

Peter – or should he say, Percy – winced. Jason knew of the Greek commanders. Annabeth, the daughter of Athena, her existence both a scandal and an insult (or so many of the Romans – cough, Octavian – believed). And Percy, the son of Poseidon. As wild as the sea itself, many demigods (both Greek and Roman) claimed.

"Shit," Percy muttered, calming down enough to realize, perhaps for the first time, who exactly was holding him. And Jason chided himself for not knowing earlier – this close, it was obvious that the other demigod smelled of the sea; salt and fresh air (and yet, before today, Jason would have sworn that fresh air had no scent). "You're not a giant eagle."

"No, not exactly," Jason replied evenly. He resisted the urge to sigh. He didn't want to show any emotion, any weakness – didn't want to give Percy anything else to go on. "You really shouldn't have tried your luck twice."

"So you're not happy to see me again?" Percy tried, although his tone couldn't quite hide his discomfort at being so high up. Jason opened his mouth to reply, while mentally reminding himself that no, he was _not_ amused with Percy, when a loud rumble shook his bones. In the distance, lightning flashed.

Jason scowled. "That wasn't me."

Percy gulped. Jason hated to admit it, but his eyes were drawn to the movement of the other boy's throat. _Shit, Grace, really?_ He scolded himself.

"Err, now might be a good time to mention," Percy began, a slightly frantic look in his eyes, "that Zeus – Jupiter – err, _your dad_ –" he nodded towards Jason "– isn't exactly my biggest fan."

Jason, who'd been steadily dragging Percy higher and higher into the air, in an attempt to prevent the boy from getting any tricky ideas (which had worked, by the way. Percy knew as well as Jason did that if he struggled or attacked, he would fall and Jason would simply fly away without harm), finally stopped their progress. He slowly readjusted his hold on Percy, one had gripping the sea demigod's shoulder, the other his waist.

"Why am I not surprised?" Jason raised an eyebrow, although he couldn't quite hide his impressed tone. It took a lot to get Jupiter's attention, positive or otherwise.

In truth, Jupiter wouldn't exactly have been Jason's first choice for a father. The god was too busy being well, a god, to really be father of the year. Or day. Or even five minutes. No, Jupiter was just... absent.

Percy opened his mouth, probably to say something snarky, then froze. Jason tensed; he felt it too. Jason had felt the warmth in his hands, some slight tingling, but he had just put it on the struggle between the two of them, and on Percy being so close. Only now he realized it was actually the static in the air. And before Jason could even think another thought, before he could brace Percy, a flash of light blinded him.

The heat of concentrated electricity sizzled his skin and the smell of burnt clothing wafted up his nose. Jason groaned and felt himself go weightless. He didn't feel much pain (though he was sure it would come later), thanks to the adrenaline rushing through his veins. Realization dawned on him; a burst of _Jupiter's_ energy had knocked him back.

Jason blinked, and the world around him was fuzzy. He was meters away from where he'd just been, all alone, slowly falling. He jerkily brought himself to a halt in the air and suddenly everything went into focus again, the blurry lines of the world around him sharpening to show Percy.

Covered in soot, his shirt peppered with holes, his shoes knocked off his feet.

Falling, like a shooting star.

* * *

In the end, Jason caught him before he fell. Percy was unconscious, but a light pulse indicated that he was still alive. Jason knew the Greeks worshipped Zeus as much as the Romans celebrated Jupiter, so he had no doubt that this was personal. A warning shot.

But for who?

 _Jupiter's not exactly my biggest fan,_ Percy had said. But what exactly could he have done to piss Jason's father off so much?

Jason carried the guy over the tunnels, over the guard post, over the Little Tiber, the seven Roman soldiers following his progress down on land. He knew where they were heading; the Principia. Reyna would be there, as would other soldiers. It's where they would decide what to do with Percy, at least initially.

Jason should have been triumphant, but it was anger, not victory, that coursed through him. Not at Percy though, which might have made sense (at least to the eyes of any other Roman). But Jason was furious at himself, at his dad, at this stupid, destructive war. But mainly his dad.

He took his time descending with Percy at the Principia, being sure to carefully lock his anger away. By the time they touched down, his features were locked into the calm face of a good Roman Praetor.

And his mask didn't falter, even when Reyna eyed the demigod in his hands with distaste, the surprise of recognition in her tone. "And what exactly is _he_ doing here?" She demanded loudly, pointing accusingly at Percy.

* * *

In the end, Percy was taken to New Rome; a safe place to keep prisoners because of the lack of weapons in the city, and the subjectively nice, comparatively comfortable cells.

Well, a safe place to keep _politically important_ prisoners, Jason corrected himself, as he passed a building in the Camp that he knew housed several Greek soldiers. (They hadn't known what to do with them, but now had a plan to leverage their freedom for surrender from the Greeks, or, at the very least, more information about Camp Half Blood's location. It had been Octavian's second idea – the first being to just kill the Greeks in cold blood. But both Reyna and Jason had been uncomfortable with that thought.)

Jason nodded at the guards stationed outside, and continued walking down the road, making his way towards his and Reyna's office.

Octavian was out on a mission, but not a combat one. He'd decided it would be a good idea to spend an entire twenty-four hours gutting teddy bears non-stop, without sleep, and with only one food break, to prove his devotion to the gods. He was confident that this would reveal to them the plan to follow for victory. It sounded like a load of bull to Jason, from a guy who was running out of ideas and didn't want to be sent on a field mission, but there you go. The Romans were a traditional bunch, and Octavian's waste of time had been approved in the last senate meeting. (Reyna and Jason hadn't really minded that much though, because it kept Octavian out of sight for a while). Between that and the two Centurions that were out on missions, they couldn't convene for another senate meeting until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.

So Jason knew that his meeting with Reyna wouldn't be about deciding what exactly to do with Percy. But he was curious; she seemed to know that Greek demigod already. Jason had personally never seen him on the battlefield, but then again, he and Reyna rarely fought in the same battles. It was a waste of their expertise; someone always stayed back or led another set of troops.

As he entered the building that served as their headquarters, he caught the low growling of Aurum and Argentum, and the type of nervous babbling that could only belong to a new camper. _Another one?_ Thought Jason, bemused. _What bad timing._ The poor girl or guy would definitely be getting a thorough interrogation.

Jason stepped inside.

"So... once again, I'm really sorry about the earthquake, deeply sorry –"

"It's fine. I don't blame your ancestor for it, and even if I did, I judge people on their own merits, not on those of their relatives. Although the other campers might not be so forgiving, so if I were you, I wouldn't let it become common knowledge." Reyna held up her hand, stopping the boy she was talking to from responding (and probably gushing his thanks). She raised her eyebrows as she noticed Jason slinking in. "Ah, Frank Zhang, meet Jason Grace, the other camp Praetor." She gestured.

Frank Zhang turned around, giving Jason a chance to put a face to the burly frame in front of him.

Jason offered Frank a nod. "Nice to meet you."

Frank was a tall, Asian boy with a reasonable amount of bulk. It contrasted oddly with his gentle eyes and boyish face. "Hi, Mr. Grace," Frank said awkwardly.

Someone snorted before Jason could. Jason raised an eyebrow in surprise, noticing the faun beside Frank for the first time. "'Oh, Mr. Grace, so pleased to meet you'," the faun mimicked, laughing. "Seriously? 'Mr'? None of you look older than nineteen. You're all little cupcakes!"

"They arrived this morning, a few hours before the debacle with the Greek," Reyna informed Jason drily. "This is… err, Gleeson Hedge. Frank's friend."

"We met on the road," Frank explained.

"Kid was clearly about to be mauled alive by a group of wood nymphs. What's a faun to do? _Someone_ had to save his sorry keester. Let's just say, you really need to consider the bush you're going to whizz in carefully." Gleeson rolled his eyes.

Frank flushed a bright crimson. "We were miles away from civilization! What was I supposed to do?"

"Just hold it in," Gleeson Hedge snapped.

"For _two days_?" Frank asked, his tone making it clear this was not the first time the two had had this argument.

"For as long as is necessary," Gleeson said simply, rolling his eyes at Jason.

Jason and Reyna exchanged a look, both fighting off smiles. " _Riight_. Anyway, welcome to Camp Jupiter." Jason shook their hands. "And Gleeson's right. You can call me Jason."

"Of course." Frank nodded.

"I've explained the... situation to Frank," Reyna added. "The Greeks, our camp, all of it. Frank, if you'll go outside, a girl named Hazel is waiting for you. She'll show you and Gleeson around until this evening's muster."

"Right. Thanks, again," Frank mumbled. His expression sobered and Jason knew exactly what was going through the new recruit's head. It was the look people wore when the events of the day had finally caught up with them, when they finally realized what their life had become. Jason didn't know who Frank was exactly, or where he'd come from, or what he'd left behind. But he was a demigod, and tragedy was pretty much an expected part of the package.

So when Frank passed him, Jason patted his shoulder. "You'll be fine," he murmured, his tone comforting. Frank paused, Jason's unexpected compassion making his eyes water.

Gleeson Hedge snorted again. "No waterworks, Zhang the tank. Keep moving. I want to see their battle forts again. And the elephant – been ages since I've seen her."

Jason let the two amble out, and walked up to Reyna. "Gleeson?" he asked questioningly.

"Yeah, he used to live here. Left years ago to pan-handle in San Francisco." Reyna shrugged. "The other fauns seem to remember him, and he seems as bloodthirsty as any Roman demigod. Not a bad addition."

Jason smiled. Octavian would occasionally go on rants about the uselessness of their fauns, but Reyna had always had a soft spot for them. "Okay. So... the Greek."

"The Greek." Reyna looked at him squarely.

Jason shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. "Are we going to talk about how you seemed to know him? Percy Jackson, I believe."

Reyna hesitated. Slowly, she frowned. "Yes, I'd heard that was his name. Or at least, he's clearly a Greek son of Neptune. But I don't know him," she said simply. "Not by name, anyway. But by face. He's older now..." Reyna sighed. "I wasn't always here." She gestured at the room, but Jason knew she meant the camp. "You know that."

"I also don't know where exactly you were. You don't like to talk about your past," Jason reminded her gently. Not judging and not demanding. He was the same way.

Reyna looked at him, her eyes unreadable. "You've been a bit odd these past few days," she said finally, which wasn't what Jason had been expecting to hear.

"Hunh?"

She tilted her head, and Jason's heart rate quickened. For some absurd reason, he remembered the time he'd asked her out – once, years ago – and she'd declined. She had that same knowing look in her eyes now. "Been particularly interested in the new recruits. And anyone with dark hair. Your eyes have just snapped to their faces – well, to those _boys'_ faces."

"I have – I mean, I haven't really been paying attention – I think you're reading too much into –" Jason shrugged. He was babbling just like a Roman on probatio, having his first interview with a Praetor. After all these years, she was the only one who could crack the mask he wore constantly; the face of a calm, sure-footed leader. He'd be lying if he said he didn't usually find it refreshing, a chance to be himself without any overbearing expectations. But this didn't feel like it normally did.

Reyna continued scrutinizing him. "You said nothing eventful happened when the third cohort was testing out those catapults."

"Nothing did," Jason lied evenly. Aurum and Argentum growled quietly, but didn't kick up a fuss. Even Reyna hadn't realized how much those two liked Jason, how much they'd grown to trust him. The regular walks and trips to the dog park every weekend didn't hurt either.

Jason didn't know why he wasn't telling her. He'd first kept it a secret to protect Peter, a Roman demigod who didn't want to fight a war he wasn't ready for. Jason could relate to that – hell, even Reyna could. And now that he knew the truth, he should be rushing forward with details of their first meeting.

And yet, Jason's mouth stayed clamped shut.

"That was the last time you left camp, and you came back soaking wet. That's why I thought..." Reyna met his eyes, her own head tilted, her dark eyes framed by her lashes. "You haven't met Percy before, have you?" She asked him, point blank. But that wasn't all she was asking. _You haven't been_ waiting _for him, have you?_

It was a preposterous idea. He hadn't been. Maybe a part of him had been waiting for Peter, but no part of him cared about Percy. He was a Greek, and the Greeks had caused him enough headaches. "I've never met anyone named Percy before, Greek or not," Jason lied strategically, acutely aware that he had never broken so many rules before in his life.

Reyna nodded, but her eyes gave something away. Jason just wasn't sure what. "Be very careful, Grace." She picked up her purple cloak and moved towards the door. When she passed near him, she hesitated. "I used to work somewhere. With my sister. Years and years ago. This is my third home, Jason. That was my second, but one I loved at the time. Percy and his friend... they destroyed it. That's why I came here."

Jason was surprised. He hadn't been expecting such a confession, from Reyna of all people. "Reyna, I'm sorry to hear that."

"You know Hylla leads the Amazons."

"You've told me before," Jason agreed.

"And I'm happy here. You're a good friend." Reyna gave him a rare smile, and Jason couldn't help but smile back. When Reyna's lips twisted up in a true smile, like this, you could see her dimples. Her eyes grew lighter. Her entire face changed. "But... it wasn't an easy journey." Her face darkened once more, all too soon, and Jason couldn't help but think that if anyone deserved a lifetime full of easy choices and happiness, it was her. She didn't seem to want to press the issue further, so he just nodded.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you're here."

"Me too. And, in hindsight, I think Hylla and I are both better off away from that place." Reyna gave him a sad smile and moved away, probably heading off to do a bunch of administrative tasks.

Jason heard the clicking of her heels and just stood there, internally debating with himself. In the end, he decided to ask her.

"Do you think Octavian's right?" Jason blurted out. "About the Greeks?"

Octavian called them liars, schemers, the incarnation of chaos and other unruly, destructive forces. Demigods that needed to be stamped out.

Reyna paused again, the atmosphere suddenly changing. It was a dangerous question that Jason had asked, and technically Reyna could choose to interpret it as treasonous thinking. As evidence of him questioning the Roman way. He'd had these doubts for weeks. This was the first time he'd ever voiced them.

Reyna stood at the doorway, the bright light of the day outside illuminating her lithe frame. Half her face was turned towards him and she looked gravely serious when she said, "No. And if you're asking if I hate Percy and his friend, for what they did, I don't."

An unexpected answer.

Then she was gone and Jason was left alone with Aurum and Argentum.

* * *

Jason should have gone straight to his quarters and straight to sleep that night. He should have not thought twice about the Greek commander holed up in New Rome. He should have done the _Roman_ thing.

He should have, but he didn't.

In his defense, he was going to. That evening, he was heading away from his favourite brownie shop in New Rome, a big bag full of chocolaty goodness clutched in one hand, already imagining how great it would be to finally lie down, when he saw Hazel, Bryce and Leslie. They waved at him and he heard Percy's name. With internal resignation, he made his way over to the group.

"What's up?" Jason asked, noticing Hazel's worried eyes and Bryce's cruel smirk.

"The Greacus won't eat," Bryce drawled. He was the son of Orcus, and had his father's ruthless disposition. "I say, let him starve. Hold out the water as well. In a few days he'll be begging for some food. But _Hazel_ here is worried." Bryce finished with a sneer.

Hazel flinched, almost imperceptibly, but held her ground. "Jason, if he doesn't eat, what good will he be to us? He's important to the Greeks. We could maybe leverage him for a truce –"

"Truce?" Bryce looked shocked. "Listen, girl, I know you're not normal –" And again, Hazel flinched. They'd all heard the rumors about her, even Jason. Jason didn't care if they were true; Hazel was a warm, friendly person. A great ally. But not all the other Romans shared his view. "– but even you can't be that naive. Octavian's right – we need to obliterate the Greeks. Punish them," he added, cradling the words with a scary kind of tenderness.

Jason felt a little sick, but he didn't let it show. He never did. "Shut it, Bryce. Hazel is a valued member of this legion, and you will treat her with more respect." The two glared at each other and eventually Bryce muttered a small, insincere apology. Resisting an eye roll, Jason turned to Hazel. "Have you tried talking to him?"

"Yes, we've all tried."

"All?" Jason's eyes flicked to Bryce.

"Uh, maybe not all," Hazel amended, and Jason felt the rush of relief in his chest. They all knew what had happened to the last Greek they'd left alone with Bryce... Guilt shot through Jason. "But, most of us have. He won't cooperate."

"Let me try," Bryce grinned, a manic light in his dark eyes. "I guarantee I could change his mind. Get him to... loosen up."

Jason felt even sicker. He wasn't the only one; Hazel and Leslie exchanged a nervous glance. Jason didn't hate many campers, but Bryce was an exception. So he ignored the demonic boy. "Where's his food?" Jason said to Hazel and Leslie. "I'll try."

And that was how he ended up moving down the stairs to the basement below the justice building in New Rome – it was on the outskirts of the city, a safe distance from the actual inhabitants – holding a tray of food and a bottle of water in his hand, instead of soundly asleep in his comfortable bed.

There were four cells on the lowest floor; each was fairly large, with a bed, a stone bench and a small, bared window letting in scant light. Jason would like to say his heart beat did not change when he first caught sight of Percy, but that would just be another lie.

Percy wasn't lying on the bed or sitting on the stone bench. He was on the ground, underneath the window, his back leaning against the cold stone wall. He saw Jason through the bars of his cell, and raised an eyebrow as Jason silently opened the lock and entered. For the brief second the door was open, Percy made no move to escape, didn't even twitch a muscle.

"A Praetor himself. To what do I owe the honor?" Percy muttered, as Jason locked the door behind him. But his eyes were calculating, trying to the figure the answer out for himself.

Jason looked pointedly at the food in his hand, then placed the tray in front of Percy. Leslie had asked whether he needed backup; Percy hadn't been violent before, but he was a powerful demigod all the same. Jason had shrugged the Roman soldier off. He'd thought he could handle the Greacus just fine. The only thing was, now, being here, feeling the power radiating off Percy, Jason wasn't so sure.

 _His eyes are more blue than green tonight_ _,_ Jason thought. It was a disconcerting thought, so he shoved it away.

"Hungry?" Jason asked.

Percy's stomach rumbled. "No," he said and looked away.

"I don't believe you," Jason said, lips twitching.

"I don't care."

A few minutes passed. Jason decided it would be better to not let the silence settle. He sighed, sitting down next to Percy. Not too close, but like the Greek, his back was also leaning against the wall. He looked across to Percy, who had stiffened at his sudden movement. "What? I'm tired. It's been a long day. And I'm not leaving until you eat something."

"Why?" Percy scoffed quietly.

"Because you're no good to us dead," Jason answered evenly. At this, Percy met his gaze.

"I'll tell you what I told _them_. No one dies after one day of fasting."

"It's about the principle of the matter. If you don't eat today, you won't ever eat here. I know guys like you." _In some ways, I am a guy like you,_ Jason thought, but didn't say. "You're too stubborn. You don't see the bigger picture."

"Which is?"

"Investigations and thorough questionings. All things you can look forward to. And you can try and hide your Greek plans from us half delirious from hunger, or with a full belly and competent mind." A part of Jason wasn't sure why he was insisting so hard. After all, he could leave now and no one would blame him.

Except, this boy had saved his life. And, if Jason was being honest with himself, the fact that Percy had done that, a Greek saving a Roman – well, it had impressed him.

Percy hesitated, then eyed Jason warily. It was a strangely... appealing look. Jason suppressed a shudder. _Focus, Grace._

Jason slowly reached towards a bread roll on the plate and broke it in half. He tossed a piece to Percy, who caught it by reflex, and deliberately took a bite from his own half. "See?" He said through his mouthful. "No poison. No truth-serum." Not that such a thing existed. "Just good old carbohydrate."

Percy rolled his eyes. It took another two minutes, but finally he gave in. He took his first bite. And that was how the rest of the meal went. Jason took a few bites first of each different portion, to prove the food was safe, and Percy cautiously munched through the rest.

When the food and water was finally finished, Jason yawned and stretched. "Told you it wasn't poisoned."

Percy laughed bitterly. "How silly of me not to take my captors at their word."

Jason froze. "Look..."

Percy studied him. "Yeah?"

But what could Jason say? _I'm sorry? You'll be alright?_ He couldn't, and shouldn't, say things that weren't true, or that were so illogical. "You lied before. Your name's not Peter."

Percy shrugged. "It could've been. And really, isn't it close enough?"

"You should have just stayed away," Jason said. Then he added, "You coming back here was what got you caught. You can't put that on _me_."

"I don't," said Percy quietly.

Jason stared at the other demigod. He had freckles, which were quite interesting when paired with his tan skin. His hair looked crazy, a mess, but in the best way. His eyes, that faint smile, slightly amused despite everything... Jason couldn't look away.

"Is your last name really Grace?" Percy blurted. Jason blinked, finally snapping out of it.

"Uh – yeah, why?"

"I overheard your soldiers talking about you. Jason Grace, they said..."

Jason frowned. "Does it mean something to you?"

"No," Percy said and it was a lie. Jason could tell.

"Percy –"

"It wasn't you," Percy said at the same time, cutting him off.

Curiosity and frustration fought inside Jason. "What wasn't?" he finally sighed.

"Zeus – Jupiter – whatever, wasn't smiting _you_. He was blasting me out of the air. It wasn't anything personal," Percy clarified.

Jason hesitated. Had it been that obvious that it had been bothering him? Getting knocked out of the air by his dad hadn't been the most encouraging sign he'd ever received.

 _I shouldn't be talking about this with this guy,_ Jason thought.

But aloud, he shared what had been nagging at him all day. "It sure felt personal. Has Neptune ever shot water at you?"

"Well, no..."

"See." Jason made sure his face was impassive. "It was a message for _me_ just as much as you. I just don't know what it means."

"Nothing," Percy said, his tone exasperated. "Dude, it means nothing – for you. Zeus... he doesn't like me. I'm not allowed to be in the air. Occasionally he's let it slide, let me take an airplane once or twice, but... today, I was near your camp, being a threat and all." Percy shrugged.

Jason shook his head. "Still. He should have let me handle it. You could've..." Jason faltered, catching himself a moment too late.

Percy's face split into a wolfish grin. "Died?"

"Well," said Jason stiffly. Awkwardly. "Yeah. You could try to look a little more somber about it."

"Worried, were you?"

Jason glared at him. "I owe you. You saved my life." And as he said the words, he realized what an idiot he was for not sharing this information with Reyna earlier.

"Well, consider that debt repaid," said Percy easily. "Because without you, I'm guessing I would have fallen to my doom. Your healer told me, as she was bringing me back to consciousness this morning. By the way, your campers think _you_ shot that lightning."

Jason tensed. "Did you tell her the truth?"

Percy shrugged again. "Didn't see the point."

"I wouldn't have minded."

"Okay then, you tell them. Oh, and since you're having trouble taking my word for it…" Percy hesitated, then lifted the sleeve of his shirt. Their healer – a demigod called Marcy – had given Percy a plain black t shirt to wear (his old one had been grated by the lightning). Percy's forearm was covered in a nasty burn; shiny, puckered skin crisscrossing across his tan limb.

Jason scowled deeply.

 _Shit_ _,_ he thought.

"See? Zeus, Jupiter, hit _me_ with the real stuff. It's the best that girl could do. She healed the worst of it, but said these scars would take a few weeks to disappear. Stings like a bitch too. So, you know, there's that."

And Jason should've felt relieved – his dad clearly cared about him after all, at least to some degree, because he was absolutely fine, not a scratch on his body. But he didn't. Not one bit.

Jason looked away, not wanting Percy to see, to know how much he – surprisingly, foolishly – _cared_.

 _Damn it, what's happening to me?_

"You should go, Praetor," Percy said finally, gently. "It's getting late. I'm getting tired."

Jason got up. He looked down at Percy. "On your other arm too?"

Percy nodded.

"Back? Chest?"

Percy tilted his head. "Mainly my arms and back, yeah. The girl –"

"Marcy," Jason supplied.

"Yeah. She managed to heal the rest."

"Great," Jason muttered, through ground teeth.

"See you, Grace." Percy gave him a wry wink. "Try not to worry too much."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Get over yourself," he retorted, half-heartedly. And he left before Percy could get another snarky word in.

* * *

AN: Thank you all for your kind reviews and enthusiasm! It means so much to know you're enjoying the story : )


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